


Walk on the Moon

by aurora_australis



Series: New Found Lands [4]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: There's an old adage that says all good things must come to an end... including, it seems, Jack's European holiday and the unexpected romance that he discovered along the way.A conclusion to the New Found Lands series, inspired by the Great Big Sea song of the same name.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Series: New Found Lands [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1243967
Comments: 46
Kudos: 133
Collections: The GBS Collection





	Walk on the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Great Big Sea song, [_Walk on the Moon_](https://vimeo.com/21924635) and a conclusion to the continuing adventures of Holiday Modern Phryne & Jack.
> 
> (To avoid _too much_ confusion, I would highly recommend reading at least [_Can’t Stop Falling_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823557) before this. 😉)
> 
> Many many _many_ thanks to Sarahtoo for the fabulous beta read!

“Neil Armstrong.”

Phryne looked up from her drink, a bemused expression on her face. 

He was doing it again.

“Why don’t you go and enter us?” she asked. “This is still just round one.”

“What?” He looked at her, slightly confused, before realizing what she meant. “Oh, no. No, I’m not playing.”

“Yes, you are,” she replied. “You might as well win us a free appetizer or something.”

This happened every time they were in a pub during a trivia night, which in and of itself happened more than, statistically speaking, it should. Phryne would suggest they play. Jack would politely decline, and then he’d spend the whole night absentmindedly answering the questions as they chatted with each other. Phryne would supply a fair few answers of her own and between the two of them they usually got very close to a perfect score. Of course, they were never _actually_ playing.

In the nine or so weeks they’d been together, it had happened over half a dozen times.

Phryne figured she was owed a whole buffet of apps by now.

The trivia host repeated the question. _“Who, fifty years ago this July, uttered the now famous line, ‘That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’?”_

Phryne looked pointedly at Jack who just shook his head. 

Phryne shrugged. “I don’t know why you never want to play, Jack. Didn’t peg you for such a fence sitter.”

In response, Jack offered her a small smile and a tilt of his head. “It would be a tactical error to think you had me pegged just yet. Much like that question.”

“Excuse me?”

“The question. It’s an _error_. He got the quote wrong. I’m not surprised, almost everyone does. It’s actually, ‘That's one small step for _a_ man, one giant leap for mankind’.”

“Actually,” Phryne said, gesturing vaguely with her last chip, “there’s some debate on that.”

“Are you talking about all the fuss around that forensic linguist?” He snorted derisively. “I don’t buy it. Which makes more sense - that Armstrong forgot a key word in his well-rehearsed, history making-statement, or that audio equipment in 1969 and _on the moon_ failed to pick it up?”

Phryne blinked, slightly taken aback, though by now she knew she shouldn’t be the least bit surprised. Of course he had followed the recording analysis debates. And of course it didn’t faze him at all that she had as well.

Her never-ending source of mystery.

Before she could answer him, though, the host was back on the mic. _“Question Number Two: good for compelling kisses, what is the common name for most obligate parasitic plants in the order Santalales?”_

“Hemiparasitic,” they both corrected, then rolled their eyes in tandem.

“I suppose the answer he’s looking for mistletoe,” Phryne conceded. “Though it’s never done much to compel my kisses.”

“No?” Jack asked, forgetting entirely the game. Or, at least, the trivia challenge. “And what _would_ compel them?”

Phryne shrugged again. “You’re a clever man, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Jack smiled wickedly at her, a whole different competitive streak showing itself, but then his eyes caught on the clock behind her head and the smile fell away. “If only we had more time,” Jack he told her, with a nod to the clock. Phryne turned to follow his gaze and discovered it was much later than she’d realized. 

When she looked back at him he was pulling out his wallet to settle the bill, carefully avoiding her eyes.

“Are you sure you want to come to the airport with me?” he asked. “I’m quite capable of getting myself there.”

“I know you are, Jack, but I’d still like to join you. If that’s alright.”

“You know I’d never turn down your company,” he told her, a small, sad smile on his lips.

Not, strictly speaking, true, but she would let it go.

Once he’d paid, Jack grabbed his carry-on backpack, the rest of his luggage having been sent ahead separately, and they made their way out of the booth just as the trivia host called out the next question. _“How many gifts in total were given in The Twelve Days of Christmas?”_

Phryne looked up at Jack, saw the calculations happening behind his eyes and did a few of her own. _He_ might not be playing, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t win.

“364!” they shouted in unison, louder than they’d intended in their enthusiasm, earning a thankful look from one table and an irate huff from another.

With an apologetic grimace to the room in general they quickly made their way outside.

Stepping into the brisk early evening air, Phryne took note of the hidden alleyway next to the pub and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t suppose I could tempt you one last time?”

She had rather been hoping to make him blush with her proposition, but all he did was shoot her a mock disapproving glare.

“Miss Fisher, I am scandalized at the suggestion. I am a _gentleman_.”

Phryne snorted. “You are no such thing, and the damage charges I’m almost certainly going to incur at the hotel prove it.”

That one did earn her a small blush and she crowed a litte to herself at the victory.

“Nevertheless,” he maintained, with more gravitas than anyone with pink-tipped ears should possess, “this town has more CCTV cameras than any other city on earth and the Internet is forever. I’m afraid you’ve tempted me for the last time.”

The words had barely left his mouth before she saw the change in his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean… I’m not taking this lightly.”

“I know you’re not,” she reassured him, and she did. She knew him. “Let’s hail a cab, shall we?”

He nodded and before too long they were both sat in one, quickly making their way to Heathrow Airport.

He was surprisingly subdued on the ride over. They were almost never at a loss for words with each other, but when they were quiet together the silence was always companionable. This felt… different. Heavy. She took his hand and started slightly when, despite the relaxed nature of his posture, he gripped hers back.

He really wasn’t taking this lightly at all.

Still holding his hand, Phryne watched the landmarks of London whiz by and considered the last nine weeks. She had never in her life been so happy with another person, and she was certain he felt the same. But for some reason he was still holding back. She knew they’d both given their relationship a lot of thought in the days leading up to his departure, but while she had come to decide they should continue pursuing something together - and had expressed her feelings to Jack - he seemed to have gone past thinking to overthinking, a habit of his she knew full well. 

She knew him. 

And the result of all this worrying and anxiety and overthinking was that he was just… leaving. Heading home with happy memories of a holiday romance that would never have the opportunity to truly break his heart because it had always had an expiration date anyway. She sighed. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she wouldn’t try to change his mind. He was either in this with her or he wasn’t; she didn’t deserve less. 

As the familiar sounds of London gave way to the familiar sounds of an airport, Phryne allowed herself to think briefly of what might be next for her. She had already determined it was time to move on to a new city, try a new country on for size. She could really write from anywhere, so the sky was the limit on that front. Not Melbourne, of course, for… obvious reasons. But literally anywhere else. Perhaps Madrid? She’d heard lovely things about it. 

She was just remembering how much she enjoyed both tapas and the Spanish accent when the cab came to a stop under a sign announcing Departures. 

“We’re here,” Jack said, somewhat unnecessarily. 

Phryne nodded, and they both alit from the cab out separate doors.

Given the circumstances, she felt the absence of his hand more keenly than she would have preferred.

Once inside, Jack began walking immediately towards the ticket counter for Singapore Airlines to check in while Phryne excused herself to run a quick errand in the British Airways section. They met up again about 10 minutes later and began walking towards security.

“Everything alright with your bags?” she asked.

“Mmmm. Thank the concierge again for me, will you? I very much appreciated not having to lug them around all day on Kenny and Robert’s goodbye tour of London.”

“I will, though I believe she was acting on Mr. B’s orders to make your departure as effortless as possible.”

Jack grinned. “That would not surprise me one bit.”

As they reached the security line, Jack stopped, then ran a hand through his hair and round back to rest on his neck awkwardly. 

“Well,” he began slowly, “I suppose this is - ”

“Oh, I’m coming with you,” she interrupted. “At least as far at the gate.” And then she produced a ticket from her purse for a flight from London to Stockholm, departing about half an hour after his.

Jack opened his mouth in surprise. Closed it. Opened it again.

"Well… that was very impetuous of you."

"You like me for my impetuousness,” she quipped.

"What if I like you for your money? You keep pulling stunts like this and you won’t have any left and I’ll be forced to find another gorgeous millionaire. And honestly, Miss Fisher, that sounds exhausting.” His delivery was bone dry, but his expression was dripping with amusement.

“Oh you poor man,” she said, the teasing in her double meaning clear, even as she patted his cheek sympathetically.

“Exactly,” he replied, and she was happily reminded how their disparate incomes didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

He took the hand on his cheek in his own and kissed her palm. “So the next time you decide to be recklessly generous, think of me first, won’t you?” Then he twined their fingers together and held it loosely before turning once more towards security, hand in hand.

Phryne didn't think about it often, but she loved the way he held her hand. His grip was steady but not cloying - much like the man himself. And it was so natural. Sometimes they'd be at dinner or watching the telly or… recovering, and she'd look down to see that their hands were joined and would have no memory of when they'd done that. They were just... together. She loved those moments.

She'd miss those moments.

Phryne didn't want to think about how much.

Settled in line for security, Phryne squeezed his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. She didn't want to think about a lot of things just now. The line moved and they moved with it, quiet and contemplative until they were only a few people from the front. A thought seemed to occur to him then.

"You don't have your passport," he said suddenly.

"Of course I do," she replied.

"You planned this?" he asked.

"No, but I always have my passport. Don't you?"

"No... I, like a normal person, don't leave the county on a whim."

"Well that's boring," she said. "I'm going to have to break you of that habit."

He smiled, tightly, and she realized what she said.

“Oh, well, dodged a bullet there, didn’t you?” She was aiming for light and almost made it. Close enough for government work, or at least for government civil servants who wanted to avoid an issue.

With only a backpack and purse between them they made it through the checkpoint very quickly and then found themselves with extra time on the other side of security.

“Well,” he asked her, “what should we do?”

“Make our way to your gate, I suppose.”

“That’s all? I doubt that’s worth a ticket to Stockholm in January.”

“Well...” she grabbed his wrist to look at his watch and confirm they were still early, “we could take our time. There’s always something fun to do at the airport.”

Jack laughed, twisting his wrist to take her hand in his. “I love,” he paused, so minutely she would have missed it had she not seen his Adam’s apple quiver, “the way you look at the world.”

It was hardly a surprising addendum; in their two and a half month relationship he’d never told her he loved her.

Of course, technically, she hadn’t told him either.

She tugged on his arm and pulled him in the direction of his gate.

“Come along, Robinson!”

“Yes ma'am,” he said, saluting with his free hand.

They walked along for a few minutes, occasionally stopping to window shop but never finding anything interesting enough to pull them in until a little sign with the words _Lee’s Bookshop_ in a pleasant cursive font caught Phryne’s eye.

“Oooooh, Lee’s! Shall we?”

Jack nodded and made an “after you” gesture, following Phryne into the store a moment later. Lee’s sold mostly used books, excellent for picking up before a flight and then reselling at another Lee’s in another airport. It was a wonderfully resourceful idea, but it did lead to a bit of a hodgepodge shelving system. 

They perused the books for a few minutes before Phryne picked up a biography of Queen Victoria. “Jaaaaack,” she sing-songed at him. “I found one for you.” 

Jack looked up to see the title, then shot her an exasperated look. With a grin, she glanced at the cover art, which featured a young Victoria, her face tilted to the side, her hair cascading down one side. “Why, this one’s practically naughty!” Phryne clutched it to her chest. “Shall we buy it?”

Jack rolled his eyes, took the book from her, and placed it back on the shelf. “Uhhhh, no thanks.”

“Spoilsport,” she huffed, continuing to peruse the shelves. After a moment or two she heard Jack laugh and saw him pick up a copy of one of her Fern Stanley novels - _Death on the Vine_. 

“Never been book shopping with the author before,” he observed, flipping through the pages.

“Oh that’s an early one,” Phryne said, grabbing it from him. “You barely ever see this one outside of box sets anymore. Or online of course.” She passed it back to him. “Speaking of Miss Fern… are you getting excited to see your name in the next book?”

He stopped flipping and looked at her with a put upon expression. “Phryne, we’ve talked about this - you can’t!” 

“Are you still sore? I told you I was naming the radio host after you and you were fine with it.”

“That was before I knew... he gives _sex advice_ , Phryne.”

“Yes and he’s very good at his job. You should be flattered.”

“You gave him a tagline!”

She had of course. Every great radio personality needed one, and it wasn’t her fault ‘Jack’ rhymed with so many delicious options. All in all, she thought she’d been rather restrained. Smiling, she decided to quote it back to him now, just to push another button. 

“But it’s so catchy! _‘For more fun in the sack, listen to Jack!’”_

Jack just stared at her, deeply unamused. 

“Fine,” she capitulated. “If it means so much to you, I’ll change his last name from Robinson to something else. I’ll even let you pick. Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Jack looked thoughtful for a moment then smiled as he came up with one. “Bard,” he announced. “Jack Bard.”

“Really, Jack? Shakespeare again?” She sighed with mock boredom, but it was all a show and they both knew it. The truth was she loved it when he quoted Shakespeare to her. 

She’d miss that too.

“Fine, fine,” she continued. A wicked thought occurred and she turned to face him fully. “You know, that might work even better. _‘Tune into the Bard, when you want to get_ -”

“Stop!” he said, holding up a hand to punctuate his request, the tips of his ears once again turning an adorable shade of pink. “I’ll keep thinking.”

“Go right ahead, Jack. Just remember, I have a rhyming dictionary and an extraordinary imagination.”

Jack groaned and moved onto another section of older books. 

“Oh, look, I found you a D.H. Lawrence,” he called. Phryne walked over and took it from him, her eyes lighting up when she read the publication date.

“Jack, this is the 1961 edition!”

“And…”

Phryne grinned and read him the publisher's dedication. "'For having published this book, Penguin Books were prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act, 1959 at the Old Bailey in London from 20 October to 2 November 1960. This edition is therefore dedicated to the twelve jurors, three women and nine men, who returned a verdict of "Not Guilty" and thus made D. H. Lawrence's last novel available for the first time to the public in the United Kingdom.'"

Jack shook his head, but his gaze was fond. “So of course you’re buying it.”

“Of course!” Phryne agreed, tucking the book under her arm. “And I even. Found one. For you.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she emphasized each phrase with a little pause, then handed him a slightly weathered copy of _Riders of The Purple Sage_ by Zane Grey.

Jack’s lips turned down in what she affectionately called his sad puppy dog face. “Oh, I’ve read this one,” he told her in a disappointed tone.

Phryne went to take it back, but Jack stopped her. “Still… I could always read it on the plane.”

Phryne nodded, a hidden smile on her lips. Of course he would buy it. She knew him.

Jack opened the book and his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, this has an inscription.” He squinted a little to read the small script. “My darling...”

“Glad I’m forgiven for the tagline.”

His eyes flicked to her as he tilted his head. “On our fifth anniversary.”

“Has it been that long?” she asked.

“From a Mrs Johnson to a Mr Johnson.” Jack frowned. “This feels… personal. I wonder how it ended up here.” He paused for a moment, clearly thinking about it. “I think maybe I should leave it.” He went to put the book down, but Phryne stopped him. 

She let the teasing tone drop from her voice. “And I don’t think anyone else would take better care of it for Mr Johnson than you.” She reached up to stroke his cheek then turned around to make her way to the register, leaving him to make his own choice. 

While she was paying, she saw him to her left making a purchase of his own, and smiled.

A few minutes later they met up outside the shop, each with a bag bearing the Lee’s logo. Phryne started to turn, but Jack stopped her with a hand on her arm. Then he handed her a pen, also bearing the Lee’s logo, and the copy of her book they had been looking at inside.

“Sign it for me?” he asked, a little smug and a little shy, a combination she found oddly charming.

Phryne tapped the pen against the page for a moment, unsure what to write. Really, she had been so young when she wrote this one… She looked up, ready to make a joke about her youthful indiscretions, to see him watching her with those deep, expressive eyes. The ones that truly saw _her_. With a small smile to herself, she scribbled a few lines on the inside and then closed the cover. Jack went to take it from her, but she moved around him and put it in his backpack instead. “Read it on the plane,” she told him, and he nodded his agreement.

They began meandering down the corridor again, slowly but surely making their way to Jack’s gate. Turning a corner, they immediately saw a woman barreling towards them, armed with a suitcase and almost certainly running to catch a flight. Phryne jumped out of the way at the last second, but Jack had no such luck. The woman checked his shoulder, hard, but kept going, throwing a half-hearted “sorry” in her wake as she did.

“Ow,” he grumbled, clearly irritated. 

“Oh, poor darling,” Phryne offered with sympathy. “Are you badly hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he told her. “But that was rude. I am not a small man — ”

“Agreed,” Phryne said widening her eyes meaningfully. Jack simply rolled his.

“I just mean, she must have seen me.” He rolled his shoulders, and kept walking, but another sign caught Phryne’s eye and she grabbed his hand to pull him towards the entrance to _Le Bon Vie_.

_Le Bon Vie_ was one of those little shops that sold everything - souvenirs and novelty cards, chocolates and perfumes, toiletries and handbags. And hats. Lots and lots of hats.

Phryne perused the chapeau selection for a moment before finally deciding on a brown fedora with a wide band. "Old fashioned sensibilities, old fashioned hat,” she declared, placing it on Jack’s head before turning him to face the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Well… they’ll certainly see me coming.”

“Surely that's a good thing, Jack,” she teased. “And rather the point - to avoid another collision.” He tilted his head a bit looking at himself in the mirror.

“Actually… I don’t hate it.”

She laughed, which turned into a surprised whoop as he spun her around and placed a deerstalker on her. “This feels appropriate,” he teased. She grinned, looked up into his eyes, and suddenly stopped laughing. He was looking at her with such open affection it took her breath away. Staring into his eyes, she saw all the things she felt reflected back at her.

If only one of them would be a bit more foolish or a tad more brave. If only...

A polite but pointed cough from the shop clerk who clearly did not want them playing dress up during his shift broke the moment, and Phryne took a step back, removing her hat as she did.

“We’ll take this one,” she told the young man, indicating the fedora. Jack made to argue, but Phryne held up her hand to stop him. “You need it, Jack. To stand out more.” She winked, reaching for her wallet. “For the next woman who uses you for target practice.”

He had the good sense not to voice another objection, and, with so little room left in his backpack, no choice but to wear the hat out of the shop.

She spared a glance up at his face in profile; it really did suit him.

They continued ambling on towards his gate, pausing briefly at a cafe so Jack could buy a water for the flight. When he returned, he handed her a bottle as well, having bought her a sparkling lemonade without a second thought. Just because he knew she liked them. Eternally considerate, her Jack.

No, not _her_ Jack, and she needed to quell that line of thinking immediately.

Continuing on they suddenly found themselves in a large open area connecting two terminals. In the middle was a baby grand piano, which, upon closer inspection by Phryne, had a sign attached to it that said “play me” in multiple languages.

“Oh Jack…” she began, turning to look at him with imploring eyes.

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Jack, there’s no one here.”

“There are literally hundreds of people here.”

“Well no-one will know who you are.”

“Except you.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I’m trying to decide.”

“Come on, Jack - just one song.”

Jack let out a sigh - deep and put upon and more endearing than it had any right to be - but nevertheless capitulated, sitting at the piano, slightly to the side to leave room for her.

Phryne slid onto the bench next to him, turning to him expectantly. 

“Well… what will you play?”

He tossed the fedora on the lid and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Does the lady have a request?”

Phryne tilted her head to the side as she considered the question. “Something modern,” she finally decided.

Jack thought for a few seconds before making his choice. He put his hands on the keys and began playing something quick and familiar. After a moment, Phryne recognized it and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Beethoven, Jack?”

“Mmmm. Specifically his _Waltz in E flat major_ ,” Jack said, still playing.

“I asked for modern,” she reminded him.

“Beethoven _is_ modern,” he insisted.

“Compared to who?” Phryne asked.

“Bach.”

God he could be such a sassy little shit sometimes, and damn it all she would miss that too.

Shaking her head, she watched his hands move across the keys.

“Be careful, Jack, you keep playing waltzes and I’ll lose all reason.”

“A good waltz can do that,” he agreed with a grin. 

“So can a good whisky,” she replied. “But I only like one of them aged.” She nodded deliberately toward the keys and Jack took the hint, switching mid-song to another tune - Cole Porter if she wasn’t mistaken. 

“Modern enough?” he asked.

“Almost,” she told him. “But I still think you can improve upon it.”

Jack pursed his lips, thinking, then began to play a third song. Compared to the first two, this one was quieter, sweeter, sadder. Phryne’s brow furrowed as she tried to place it.

“Wait, is this from _Amelie_?” she asked.

Jack nodded. “I learned it when the movie came out.” He turned to her and grinned. “I believe I was trying to impress a girl.”

“Well you’re definitely impressing one now,” she assured him. “What is it called?”

“It’s a song by Yann Tiersen. _Comptine d'un autre été_. Roughly translates to ‘the passing of a summer afternoon of childhood’.”

“That’s beautiful,” she told him, watching his hands again. Strong and sure and surprisingly gentle. Much like the man himself. "Will it be strange?" she asked quietly. "Returning to summer?” 

He took a deep breath in. “It will. I’ll have to strip on the plane or something so I don’t pass out from all these layers when I arrive.”

Phryne clucked her tongue. “I’ll be sorry to miss that.” He chuckled softly and she put her head on his shoulder, felt the movements of his fingers across the keys through her body. “What _are_ you most looking forward to getting back to?” she asked him.

Jack was quiet for a moment, giving her question some thought. “My garden,” he finally replied. “I can bike here, I was doing my job here, saw some wonderful theatre here, but my garden… that’s only there. It will be good to get back to it.”

She nodded, her head still on his shoulder. “And what will you miss most?”

He swallowed, hard. “Well I won’t be able to enjoy Glenlivet for quite some time. Lucky for me it’s very expensive so…” He was trying to make a joke, but it landed flat to both their ears. She turned her head to look up at him, but he was staring at the keys, carefully avoiding her eyes. “I think you know the answer to that, Phryne,” he said softly. “I just wish… I wish I could tell you how much.” He shrugged, the motion moving her head up and down. “But I suppose I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.”

“Shakespeare again, Jack?”

“Always,” he said, finishing the song with a flourish. He looked down at her, moved to kiss her, but before he could was startled by the sudden applause from the crowd that had assembled as he played. They broke apart with a start, Jack looking utterly embarrassed, Phryne smiling and waving to the group of travelers. Jack nodded once, grabbed his fedora and Phryne’s hand, and pulled her up and off the bench. “Enough of that,” he said moving away. Phryne chuckled and followed him down the hall, bowing for the crowd as she did. Less than a minute later they reached his gate, but then, by unspoken agreement, instead of stopping they moved just past it to a big picture window along the terminal.

Standing side by side they looked up at the sky. The moon was very bright tonight, clearly visible even through all the light pollution of the airport.

The intercom system above them buzzed to life. 

**“ATTENTION PASSENGERS. FLIGHT 220 TO MELBOURNE IS NOW BOARDING. FIRST CLASS AND PASSENGERS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE BOARDING GATE.”**

“That’s me,” Jack said. 

She nodded.

“Not first class though,” he said, indicating his ticket. “I have a few more minutes.”

She nodded again, turning back to the window. After a time, she spoke. “Do you know why I agree with the forensic linguist, Jack? Why I think Armstrong dropped the 'a' when he was speaking? Besides the recording analysis, of course.” Jack turned to her, a small smile on his lips at the seeming non sequitur; it had been a couple of hours, after all, since they’d discussed the astronaut’s quote. Without a word, he raised his eyebrows, indicating she should continue. 

“Human nature,” Phryne told him. “Can you imagine? Going to the moon? Today it would be thrilling — ”

“Dangerous,” he corrected.

“Both,” she conceded. “But half a century ago and for the first time? I don’t think there’s a word for how scared they must have been. Of _course_ the man forgot a one-letter, one-syllable word. I’m surprised he didn’t forget how to speak entirely.”

Jack tipped his head in that endearing way he had when he was thinking something through. “That is a very good point. Amazing small step, that. Incredibly brave.”

Phryne nodded. “And a bit foolish - my favorite combination,” she said with a grin.

In response, the corner of Jack’s lip ticked up in a secret smile. “Hell of a view, though,” he remarked as he turned to look back up at the moon.

Phryne did the same, quiet for a moment, lost in her thoughts.

“Did you ever see _An American Tail_ , Jack?”

Jack’s brows furrowed together at her second non sequitur in so many minutes. Bless him though, he always went along with them. “The old animated movie? I think so. My nieces watch it sometimes. There’s an immigrant mouse with a huge hat, right?”

“Mmmm. I loved that movie when I was younger. Absolutely adored it. And there’s this song in it, _Somewhere Out There_ … When we were little, Janey and I got our hands on this VHS copy of _An American Tail,_ I don’t even remember how, and we memorized that song. Used to sing it together every night. Like a promise.”

The lyrics floated through Phryne’s mind, unbidden and slightly unwelcome. She hadn’t thought of them in so long, but she was far too self-aware not to realize why she was thinking of them now. She started humming the tune to herself.

_Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight, someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight..._

Phryne stopped humming and stared out the window, very deliberately speaking her next words to the glass in front of her and not the man beside her. She tried to put a teasing quality in her tone, but wasn’t at all sure she achieved it. “If you ever miss me, Jack, you should listen to that song. Very comforting, for little girls and grown up inspectors alike.” 

Then, very quietly, almost to herself. “Janey would have liked you.”

She heard his sudden intake of breath. Felt his hand squeeze hers. 

Wondered when they had started holding hands.

Neither of them said anything for a while after that. They just stood there, very quietly, listening with half an ear as passengers kept boarding Jack’s flight behind them.

“You know,” he said finally, still looking out the window, up at the night sky, “they say the universe is expanding.”

Phryne nodded. “They do. But I have to say, the moon looks very still to me.”

“Well, that’s because you’re not a telescope.”

Phryne turned and regarded him with an amused expression. Jack finally looked at her as well, his countenance slightly embarrassed. “That sounded better in my head,” he explained.

“Yes, it would have had to,” she agreed. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“More like a declaration of… affection.”

The pause was minute, but she heard it. Still not there, then. 

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked, the teasing quality definitely in her tone this time.

“Would you like me to improve on it?” There was no teasing in his.

Oh. Perhaps he was there. Perhaps... 

“More than anything,” she told him quietly.

Jack pulled her close, his face inches from her own. By now they had kissed too many times to count, but this, this felt different.

A message from above filled the air.

_**“FINAL BOARDING CALL, FLIGHT 220 TO MELBOURNE. FINAL BOARDING CALL.”** _

A pause. A decision. A moment.

Jack let go.

“I have to…”

“Yes, of course.”

They broke apart, then turned in tandem and walked back to his gate. Jack pulled out his boarding pass, but seemed unable to take the final steps towards the door.

“Scared of flying, Jack?” she teased.

“I’m only scared of you,” he replied, and she could hear the honest undertones beneath the humour.

Phryne looked at him, saw the battle taking place. Despite being entirely still on the outside, his emotions were at war. He didn’t want to leave, but he also very much did.

She made the decision for him.

Phryne forced a smile and sighed dramatically. “Well, it’s true what they say; all the good ones are married, gay, or about to board a plane to the Antipodes.”

“Phryne - ”

“It’s alright, Jack,” she interrupted quietly. “Really, it’s fine. We both knew this had an expiration date. Our time is just… up.”

He nodded, and she reached up to cup his cheek. 

“Safe travels, darling. If you’re ever in London again, look me up.”

“Will you even be here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Probably not. But look me up anyway. And if you miss me before then, just remember, small mouse, huge hat. Works like a charm.” She pulled his face down ever so slightly and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye, Jack.”

Jack opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - and nodded once more. Then he turned and, without another look, boarded the plane.

Phryne took a deep breath and sat down in one of the many empty seats. She watched the crew perform their final checks and close the door, and felt, surprisingly, calm.

She wanted him. Of course she did. She wanted his intellect and his kindness and his passion. His humour and his heart and his strength. She wanted him because he made her happy. But she didn’t require him for her happiness, and that distinction was everything. That distinction was how she knew she loved him, but it was also why she knew she would be alright. He didn’t or couldn’t love her back, and that was alright too. When his plane took off, she would be sad and disappointed and she would miss him terribly, but she would move on and look for other sources of joy, other adventures. New friends and new experiences. She would continue living life to the hilt. After all, there was a whole world out there and she had a promise to keep.

But, just for now, she could be sad.

It was very quiet in this part of the airport now. There were no more planes waiting to board, just the gate crews mainly, and a few lost passengers trying to find their destinations.

Phryne stood up, straightened her collar, and turned to leave. Maybe she would catch that flight after all. Stockholm was beautiful this time of year. Probably.

She had just made it to the main aisle when there was a commotion at the gate behind her. 

Curious, Phryne looked back just in time to see the gate crew frantically open the door just enough for Jack Robinson emerge. He scanned the area and, seeing her, walked quickly in her direction. She did the same, and they met in the middle until they stood no more than a foot apart.

“How…?” Phryne had a great many questions, but that’s the one her brain decided needed answering first.

“I, uh, flashed my credentials at the Sky Marshal on board. Told him I needed to get off briefly. For security reasons.” 

“Jack, your credentials aren’t good here.”

“I know, and it’s possible I’ll get in quite a lot of trouble for pretending they are, but just to be clear - I really don’t care.”

“Well I do! I don’t want to have to bail you out of airport jail.”

“Then we should make this quick… I’m an idiot.”

“Okay… ”

“I’ve been scared. So scared I almost flew away from this. From you.” 

“And you’re not scared anymore?”

“No, I’m bloody terrified. But I don’t… I don’t want to do what I always do. Not with you. I don’t want to stay out of the game anymore and I don’t want an expiration date. Because I love you.”

Phryne’s eyes widened, but Jack pressed on. “And I know, I know I probably shouldn’t say it, and every instinct in me is screaming, ‘too fast, too much,’ and maybe they’re right. But you know what?”

“What?”

“Fuck it.” He stepped forward, a tiny movement that eliminated all but the most infinitesimal space between them. “We both know you’re the brave one, but I’m... “ He huffed out a laugh. “This is my one small step, Phryne. I think we can make this work, or, at least, we can give it a real try. If you want.”

With only an inch between her and him, neither one of them moved.

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

Jack grinned. “Come after me.”

“What did you say?” 

“It's a... what did you call it that first night? A romantic overture.”

“Say it again,” she demanded.

His grin got wider. “Come after me, Phryne Fisher.”

He hadn’t even fully said her surname before her hands were twisted around his coat lapel pulling him down for a kiss, a kiss that said _goodbye_ and _hello_ and everything in between.

A clearly irritated gate agent interrupted their reverie. “When you two have quite finished...”

Phryne took a step back, smoothed her hair, tried and failed not to grin like an idiot.

“You need to get back on your plane,” she told him. “And I need some time. I need to make plans, find a place to stay...” she began, practicalities tumbling out in a rush.

“We have time,” he said. “No expiration date, remember? I’ll call you when I land. We’ll figure it out. I _want_ to figure it out.”

Phryne nodded, the smile on her face so big now it almost hurt. She might have been self-conscious about it except Jack’s expression perfectly matched her own. A loud, displeased noise from the same crew member brought her back to reality again. Jack gave her one more quick kiss, then turned to head back.

“Jack,” she called. “What… what changed your mind?” 

Jack didn’t say a word. Just pulled his phone out of his pocket, the headphones still attached, the song he’d downloaded and clearly listened to still on the screen.

Two black shoes framing a little mouse in a too large hat.

_Somewhere Out There._

“I missed you,” he said simply. 

And then he was gone.

**\---------------------**

**EPILOGUE**

Jack leaned against the wall and checked his watch for the hundredth time. She should be here by now. The plane had been on time and she would have almost certainly been flying first class. He looked at his phone to see if she’d texted, but the last one had been a half hour before, letting him know she’d landed. He briefly scrolled back up through the message history, seemingly endless in the time they’d been apart, until he came across a photo he shouldn’t be looking at in public and quickly put the phone back in his pocket. He sighed, fiddled with the sign in his hands and checked his watch again. He was just considering tracking down an officer to start making inquiries when he saw her.

She was wearing a black t-shirt shirt with a scoop neck, dark jeans, and a pair of dark red heels. He smiled, remembering how similarly she had been dressed the first time they met. When she spotted him she grinned and he responded in kind, unable to contain his joy.

She was here.

He remembered his little handmade sign and held it up just to see her laugh.

_MISS FISHER_

She saw it and snorted, her grin somehow, impossibly, growing. 

Mission accomplished.

As she approached him she picked up speed until she was practically running. Jack did the same and when they reached each other she threw her arms around his neck and leapt into his arms. He caught her and kissed her like he’d wanted to since they’d parted two months before.

Like he wanted to forever.

But airport common areas weren’t the place for the reunion either of them really wanted so eventually he put her down, if only so they could start walking towards his car. In anticipation of leaving, Jack bent down to take her bag but she stopped him, a small hand reaching up to touch the brim of his hat. His fedora.

“You wore it,” she said, sounding surprised and pleased all at once.

“Well I couldn’t find a driver’s cap, so I thought this might do.” He winked and she laughed. It wasn’t even that funny, she just seemed too happy not to laugh given any opportunity.

He knew the feeling.

She leaned up to kiss him again, plucking the hat from his head and placing it on her own as she did.

“Then take me home, Jeeves,” she ordered.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, grabbing the bag - successfully this time - and leading her out towards the short term parking. “And where, precisely, is home?”

“The Windsor, for now. I have a realtor who’s going to show me some houses for lease next week.” She laced her hand through his free one as they walked. “Maybe you could come with me? If you’re available, I mean. Since you know the area better.”

“I’d be happy to,” he assured her. And he really, really would.

She was _here_.

They reached the car and Jack popped the boot to put her bags in. “You’re traveling light,” he commented. “Just the two bags?”

“The rest is in storage. Until I find a place.” She opened the passenger side door to sit down but Jack’s satchel was in the way. 

“Oh, just throw that in the back,” he said, finishing up with her luggage. He closed the boot and moved to the driver’s seat. When he sat down, his bag was in the back and a book was in her hand.

Her book. The one she had signed back at Heathrow. _Death on the Vine._

“It fell out,” she explained, a little embarrassed. “Were… were you reading it?”

“Well… I did tell you I read your books at the airport,” he joked, a little embarrassed himself. “Though I have to admit, I’ve read it a few times since London. Especially the inscription.”

“What did you think?” she asked, an unreadable expression on her face.

“That for about 10 minutes I thought I’d told you first.” He chuckled, reaching across to open the book in her hand. 

> _Jack,_
> 
> _Love sought is good, but given unsought better. And you have mine._
> 
> _Phryne_

"Shakespeare again?" he teased softly, though there was a slight tremble in both his hands and his voice as he did.

"Always," she replied, just as quietly, her expression beautifully, wonderfully readable now.

Still holding the book, he used his free hand to push a lock of hair behind her ear. “My brave Phryne. You have mine too. You know that, right?”

“I do, Jack.” She closed the book and gently placed it in the back seat. Then she tossed his hat onto the dash and leaned across the seat to pull him closer. “But I wouldn't mind if you showed me.”

Jack didn’t have to be told twice.

Five minutes later, and still _mostly_ clothed, Jack forced himself to pull back. He _really_ didn’t need any of his fellow officers arresting him today.

He swallowed. “We should —”

“Go.”

“Yes.” He moved back to his seat, putting more distance between them. “So what’s the plan for today, Phryne?”

“Honestly? I don’t have one. Except picking _this_ ,” she briefly paused righting her blouse to gesture vaguely between them, “up just as soon as is humanly possible.”

Jack really didn’t have to be told twice.

Grinning like an idiot, he moved to start the car, but stopped when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He took it out to read the message, a small frown appearing on his face as he did.

“What is it?” Phryne asked, 

“Work,” he said, annoyed at the intrusion on his day off, a small knot of worry forming in his chest.

“Important?” she asked. No accusation, just genuine curiosity. The knot unfurled and Jack knew why. Knew _her_. In response to her question he shrugged, then nodded. 

“A possible break in a case I’m working. There’s been an incident they think might be connected and they want me to come downtown now to check out the scene while it’s fresh.”

Phryne pulled the seat belt across her torso to buckle up. “Well then, let’s go.”

“It’s in the opposite direction of the Windsor.”

“Then I can come with you,” she suggested.

Jack’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You want to come with me to a crime scene?”

“‘Want’ is a strong word, but I can’t see any reason not to.”

“It could be dangerous!”

“The crime has already been committed, Jack, unless you’re saying it’s the town itself that is inherently dangerous, in which case I’m sure you have a plan for making it less so.”

Jack narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “If Melbourne has suddenly become dangerous, Miss Fisher, I think that’s down to your arrival.”

“Well then I’m sure you have a plan for that too.”

“Phryne — ”

“You said this was time sensitive, right? We should go now. If we’re going.” She shrugged, a casual move that almost but not quite hid her building excitement at the prospect, and Jack was reminded that, to Phryne Fisher, dangerous and thrilling were two sides of the same Roman coin. She turned to face him as fully as the seat belt would allow, bringing him back from his musings.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been to one, you know, and I’m hardly going to wait in the car like a cocker spaniel. Come on, Jack, it’s _one_ crime scene.” She turned back to face the front of the car. “It’s not like we’re going to make a habit of it or anything.”

It was a good argument. A sound argument. A logical argument.

But Jack couldn’t help wonder, as he started the car, just what he was getting himself into. A newly arrived Phryne Fisher, a dangerous town, and no plan.

Jack pulled away from the kerb, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was never meant to be. I wrote _Can’t Stop Falling_ as a one-shot. But a few days after posting it, the idea for this story took shape. I have always loved this song and it just seemed to fit the moment at the end of S3 so well, but, you know, as a modern AU. So against my better judgement I started working on it in fits and spurts, a line here, an idea there. Wrote two more unplanned stories in this universe set between this and the first, and kept on tinkering. And so, a mere 15 ridiculous months later, here you have it - an entire series that was never supposed to be, that now holds a special place in my heart. 
> 
> So thanks for coming along on the ride and hanging out with my AU Phrack - I kinda love these nerds. ❤️
> 
> Ok, real notes now:
> 
> “That forensic linguist” is John Olsson in collaboration with Dr. Chris Riley and Jack is referring to the linguistic analysis they did in 2009. It’s actually pretty interesting stuff if you’re a giant nerd like me. Here’s [an article](http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8081817.stm) on the analysis debates.
> 
> There is, or was at some point, a baby grand in Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport with “play me” written in many languages. [This is one of the sources I found it in](https://airport-pianos.fandom.com/wiki/Airport_pianos_Wiki). I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the internet is a magical place.
> 
> Can we talk for a minute about how beautiful [_Somewhere Out There_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Smc5FHbZtG4) and [_Comptine d'un autre été_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvryolGa19A) are? Like... openly weeping beautiful. Do yourself a favor and listen to both. 
> 
> And while you’re at it, listen to the inspiration for this entire story, [_Walk on the Moon_](https://vimeo.com/21924635).
> 
> “I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave” is from _The Merchant of Venice_.
> 
> “Love sought is good, but given unsought better” is from _Twelfth Night_ and means, basically, asking for love is good, but getting it without asking is much better. It’s also police code. ;-)
> 
> Shakespeare, GBS and Phrack _again_ , Aurora?
> 
> Always. ❤️


End file.
